


Morning Star of Rivendell

by KeepCalm97



Series: A Morning Star's Radiance [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Feels, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, M/M, Mix of book and film, Multi, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Romantic Fluff, Strong Female Characters, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25279282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepCalm97/pseuds/KeepCalm97
Summary: Yáviën is the youngest daughter of Lord Elrond and the most adventurous of the siblings. She never turns down an opportunity to partake in a quest, especially not when it concerns the fate of the world and those she holds most dear. Perhaps she will eventually learn to forgive herself for past mistakes along the way, and maybe even let herself fall in love once more.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee, Fíli (Tolkien)/Original Female Character (past/referenced), Legolas Greenleaf/Original Character, Rose Cotton/Sam Gamgee
Series: A Morning Star's Radiance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831420
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Her Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Re-uploading this story from fanfiction.net but edited and revised! Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer: I do NOT own LOTR in any way whatsoever and do not post this for financial gain.

"This is Common/Sindarin I know", _"This is Sindarin I don't know"_ , _'These are thoughts'_ , **_"This is Black Speech/Ring mumbo jumbo"_**

* * *

**Yáviën**

Monstrous squeals and cries abruptly cut through the stilled silence, a horrid stench quickly rising soon after. The sickening sound of blood being spilled filled the air.

"Ugh, the stench of goblins is not a scent I wished to be reacquainted with…"

Afternoon sunlight hit the sparsely grassy ground. A tall, magnificent white horse trotted his way through, his flowing mane a snow-white mixed with golden cream. His muzzle and hooves were a dark-grey. The horse's broad haunches rippled with thick muscle, proving he was well-built and powerful.

His rider was similar.

It was a young woman whose age was undefinable, with a toned, hardened body from years of battle and toil. Her deep chocolate-brown hair which would normally frame her face was twisted and pinned back, while the rest cascaded down her back, all in ringlets.

The woman's sun-kissed skin glowed despite the tiny flecks of blood dotting it. Her eyes were a startling color of silvery grey and swirling azure blue, popping against her dark-colored hair.

An elf's beauty, of course, for her ears were subtly pointed at the tips.

However, this particular she-elf did not care for the same things most elves did, evident by her attire and how many backpacks and sacks were strapped on her back and hanging off the sides of her horse's saddle.

Her choice of clothing consisted of a short leather jerkin, a navy-blue tunic, knee-high boots, archery braces, and a sable cloak.

On her person was a belt wrapped tightly just below her waist with a scabbard attached to her right hip where the sword in her hand would normally be.

It was coated in the blackened blood of goblins, glistening under the sunlight. As the she-elf cleaned her blade in some nearby grass, engravings of elvish writing grew visible.

There was a bow slung over her shoulder with a quiver of white-feathered arrows. They concealed twin daggers strapped to her back, curved and of elvish-make.

She sheathed her sword, turning to her loyal steed with a smile. "Come along Thangannas, we only have a few more days."

The beautiful horse whinnied in protest.

Her gaze grew stern. "Than, we have rested enough already, and look where that brought us! I was unaware goblins still lived near the mountains..."

Thangannas was obviously unnerved by the mention of the fiendish humanoids, shaking his head followed by a snort.

"Now let us take our leave before any more come blundering along."

She swung her long legs over and onto either side of the saddle, picking up the reins and lightly squeezing Than's sides to have him trudge on forward. He shook his head and blew air in a way that closely resembled a begrudging sigh.

* * *

**A Few Days Later**

The scenery changed drastically from rocky mountains to rolling hills of lush green grass and rich, dense forests. The air became sweeter and crisp, emanating a tranquil atmosphere.

A horse came into view as Thangannas, who knickered at his rider.

She began mumbling a relaxing tune, which kept her horse content as well, who calmed at last.

The language in which she sang was unfamiliar to most but could still put nearly anyone at ease.

"A Falas athan Gaer 'Wahtui!

A Dor ias Edhil dhorthar hi!

A Círbann-bar guren velui!

In felf na-falas dringar hi,

I mŷl 'lain horthar; Orn lothui..."

Thangannas whinnied quietly, relishing in the soothing and beautiful language of the Elves.

The she-elf's singing died down when her heightened hearing picked up the crushing of vegetation ahead and the creaking and groaning of old wooden wheels on a wagon.

A smile lit up her features, bringing out her high cheekbones further. She waved, drawing Thangannas closer to the wagon.

"Gandalf!" she called after spotting the grey wizard's hat poking out from the front.

She lightly kicked her horse's sides, speeding him up over to the wagon right beside him with a beaming face.

"Gandalf!"

The old wizard turned his head, growing a smile when he noticed the elf. His long, white beard was still as wild as ever and his gnarled wizard staff forever present in his grasp.

"Ah! Nin meld (my dear) Yáviën! Manen le (How are you)?"

Despite being aged, he did not have a frail sound to his tone. It was deep, slightly scratchy, and gruff; the kind which put one at immediately at ease.

Yáviën edged a smile. "Im maer, manen le?" (I'm fine, how are you?)

Gandalf chuckled. "Im maer. _How you traveled here to congratulate Bilbo and Frodo?"_

Yáviën beamed once more. "Yes. Apologies for not meeting you sooner; I planned to rendezvous with you once I caught word of your journey to Bilbo's birthday party. Unfortunately, I was busy traveling and had no time to bring anything particularly special. Though I come bearing no extravagant gifts... I did manage to make this along the way."

She pulled out a small wooden carving of Bilbo.

It was stunningly crafted; taking in every wrinkle, freckle, hair and even capturing the eyes to make them seem like they glistened. The paint coloring the carving was highly accurate, as if Yáviën had Bilbo's every detail ingrained into her mind, unable to be forgotten.

To the side was a golden necklace accompanying the carving, with elvish writing etched into the back. It once belonged to someone else; someone greater than her.

Gandalf admired her handiwork.

"He will be sure to appreciate such a lovely gift," the elderly wizard grinned, causing the crevices of multiple wrinkles to deepen.

"I do hope he will, it consumed days of my time," Yáviën chuckled.

"But I must ask: where did you find the time to collect the paints and whittling tools to make this?" Gandalf queried.

Yáviën smirked. "I purchased them on my travels. It took longer than I originally intended, but I am satisfied with the results."

She then pulled out a leather-bound journal, eager to show Gandalf her other present. "And I made this for Frodo, even though I resorted to the aid of a few colleagues of mine. It _is_ his coming-of-age birthday, after all."

Gandalf examined the journal, smiling when he read the title: _"The Basics of Sindarin: Learning the Language of the Elves"_

"Frodo will be delighted to finally learn some of your native tongue. He's been pestering Bilbo to teach him at least a few words these past few years."

A smile spread across Yáviën's lips. "Has he? I caught no word of it. But he has been requesting I teach him as well in previous years, though I am not an adequate teacher, hence the aid in writing this guide. I lack the patience for such things, and it would have affected our friendship. I can only hope he will appreciate it as much as you claim."

As they rode down the path surrounded by the rich nature and green, Yáviën hopped off her horse, tied the reins to the back of the wagon, and jumped into the front next to Gandalf while it was still moving.

Somewhat surprised, Gandalf looked at her for a moment before grinning. "I see you wish to repose for a while."

Yáviën smiled back. "As a matter of fact, yes. Living as I do is often very stressful."

"I am still surprised your father lets you do the things you do, my dear," Gandalf sighed, apparently not pleased by some of the things she did.

"I am a woman of my own keeping and do not heed his orders. While I respect and love him, I do not require his permission."

She soon found herself humming a tune with Gandalf, then singing it:

"Down from the door where it began.

And I must follow, if I can,

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can."

The song, of course, was one Bilbo taught her, and Gandalf knew from ages past.

An excited grin was glued to Yáviën's cerise lips. She was so eager to see her beloved hobbit friends again.

"You're late."

She turned to see Frodo gazing down at Gandalf with a stern expression.

Gandalf gave a moment before slowly turning to the hobbit. Frodo's large, leathery hard feet were planted firmly on the small cliff overlooking the path and his thick dark curly hair clung slightly to his neck.

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

They stared seriously at each other for a few more seconds until Yáviën started to smile, as did Frodo and Gandalf, who strained to keep their smiles hidden, though they'd already been quivering.

The three laughed together, their excitement and joy at their reunion peaking.

"It's wonderful to see you Gandalf!" Frodo exclaimed, leaping into the wagon and Gandalf's arms.

The old wizard was taken off-guard but chuckled regardless, warmly reciprocating the hug.

Frodo then moved along and enveloped the elleth beside him into a tight embrace. "Yávi!"

"Ai!" she exclaimed, hugging the boy back with equal joviality.

"I'm so glad you could make it, Yávi!"

"I'm glad, too!"

Gandalf grew a grin. "You didn't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday?"

"I know I would not miss it for the world," Yáviën beamed.

The three continued into the Shire as Gandalf spoke to Frodo.

"So, how is the old rascal? I hear it's going to be a party of special significance," the old wizard remarked, smoking his pipe.

The dirtied fog escaped through his lips whenever he talked in short puffs.

Yáviën wrinkled her nose in disgust. She never did like smoking. It always smelled so strange. She tried it once and it burned terribly in her lungs. How people such as Gandalf came to like the feeling was beyond her.

Frodo sent him a lopsided smile. "You know Bilbo, he's got the whole place in an uproar."

Gandalf chuckled merrily. "Well, that should please him."

"Half the Shire's been invited. And the rest of them are turning up anyways!"

The trio burst again into laughter.

Finally entering the town, some hobbits looked up to see the wagon and waved. Yáviën reluctantly brushed down her hood. While it revealed her pointed ears and outsider nature, it was better than looking like some shady character wishing to conceal her identity.

Some of the hobbits didn't mind her presence, but they were few in number, not that she blamed them for being overly cautious and suspicious. Outsiders were uncommon in the Shire, and as such, they regarded her often as an omen of future misfortune or a promise for greater numbers of outsiders.

Once they crossed a bridge, they neared Bag-End and the hobbit hole where Bilbo lived.

"To tell you the truth, Bilbo's been a bit odd lately," Frodo admitted suddenly.

Yáviën's finely shaped dark eyebrows furrowed together.

"I mean, more than usual. He's taken to locking himself up in his study, he spends hours and hours poring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking."

She glanced over at Gandalf, who returned her gaze full of concern and worry.

* * *

**Bilbo**

Placing away an old, somewhat wrinkled map, Bilbo pushed his hands into his waistcoat pockets.

When he felt nothing, panic spread over his face as he feverishly searched his pockets again.

"Where is it? Where has it gone?"

His rhetorical questions were accompanied by a desperate tone.

Bilbo dug through everywhere in his home, rummaging throughout underneath trunks, in old books, in his coat hanging upon his coat rack, but every place he searched yielded nothing.

Finally, he brought his hands up to his maroon vest pockets. He stuck his hand into the right one and found what he was looking for, drawing it back to bring the item to his lips, relief washing over him.

* * *

**Yáviën**

"He's up to something."

Frodo glanced at Gandalf, then at Yáviën who both only looked at him for a brief few seconds, staring ahead without speaking.

He smirked. "All right, keep your secrets. But I know you two have something to do with it."

Yáviën's eyes widened in disbelief.

Gandalf looked at him incredulously. "Good gracious me!"

The elf beside him held up her hands with wide, sparkling eyes. "I am innocent!"

"Before you two came along, we Bagginses were very well thought of."

"Indeed," Gandalf pretended to agree.

"Really?"

"Never had any adventures or anything unexpected."

Gandalf shifted slightly, appearing defensive. "If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved. All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door."

"I was hardly involved as well if you must know. Gandalf was the one who summoned me in the first place," She smiled, pinning the blame on the elder wizard.

He sent her a look, which only caused her smile to widen impishly.

"Whatever you two did, you've been officially labeled disturbers of the peace," Frodo grinned amusingly while Gandalf turned away, his pipe once again in his mouth as he grumbled lightly in a mocking fashion.

Yáviën snickered. "It is hardly the first time someone has labeled me as such, and this will unlikely be the last!"

Looking over past her form, a hobbit made eye contact with Gandalf, only sending him a scorned look. The wizard looked away with a slight huff.

"Hey! It's Gandalf!"

"Gandalf!"

"Gandalf!"

Little children exclaimed as they came to swarm behind the wagon, chasing after the wizard.

"Gandalf, fireworks!"

"Fireworks, Gandalf!"

Pretending not to hear them, Gandalf did not turn or stop. Yáviën cocked an eyebrow, ready to chastise him if he didn't do anything soon for the poor children's sake.

Just as they started to become disappointed, spinning balls of bright colors suddenly leaped out of the cart, popping and sparkling over the heads of the delighted children, who eagerly chased them in cries of delight and wonder.

Frodo and Yáviën smiled as Gandalf let out a few chuckles, pleased with his little performance.

The old man who had partly glared at Gandalf earlier laughed at the sight of the happy children. His wife came to stand next to him with a scowl, obviously thinking differently on the display. Her scorning glare effectively silenced him.

Frodo stood from his spot on the wagon, looking at the wizard and she-elf between him.

"Gandalf? Yáviën?"

They both looked at him with questioning eyes.

He grinned. "I'm glad you're both back."

Yáviën sent him a smile of her own, wrapping her long arms around his much smaller frame. "As am I! I'll see you later, yes?"

The boy nodded in response.

"So am I, dear boy," Gandalf replied.

Frodo leaped off the wagon to the soft grass below, waving goodbye as the wagon carried on.

"So am I..."

Yáviën's heightened hearing picked up his soft-spoken words. She looked at him with a worried expression.

"What do you think Bilbo is scheming? Looking over old maps, isolating himself from everyone, acting secretive... it does not fit him at all."

"That it doesn't! I'd have not the slightest hint about what is going on in that head of his, for there are too many thoughts to count."


	2. Revelry of Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yáviën and Gandalf catch up with Bilbo, though the former is troubled by the darkness he carries, and they prepare and participate in the festivities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin will be a mix of italics and actual Sindarin words. Thoughts will be like this: 'thoughts', and italicized.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings!**

* * *

**Yáviën's POV**

We finally reached Bilbo's hobbit hole, where some dwarves greeted us. They were unfamiliar to me but bowed with respect all the same. I bowed back, not wishing to seem rude or condescending.

Gandalf knocked on the door while I aided the dwarves in unloading Gandalf's fireworks.

We had quite the audience: a crowd of little hobbit-children calling for another spectacle. I looked around at Bilbo's home of Bag-End. It was the same as ever, almost timeless like the forest of Lorien.

It took me back…

I recalled, after our quest to Erebor reached its conclusion, his relatives presumed him dead while he was vacant from the Shire, and auctioned off nearly the entirety of his belongings sixty years ago after our little adventure.

In fact, as the most protective of my dear hobbit friend, I was far more vehement about it than he. I was ready to strangle the next hobbit who dared attempt to steal from him. The Sackville-Bagginses especially detested me, and I returned the disdain with a threat of force.

Needless to say, my intervention did not make either of us any friends, not that he would have befriended them without it, and I did not care for companionship of such low quality.

Regardless, any time I was far from The Shire it seemed - as I heard from Bilbo's letters - they attempted again to claim ownership to his belongings. So, I made it a point to visit every couple of years or so. Normally, time was a more foreign concept to me and I let decades pass me by with ease, but for them, I at least counted the years.

Meanwhile, Gandalf knocked on Bilbo's door, hearing him respond he did not want any more well-wishers or the like.

Gandalf replied, "And what about very old friends?"

The door clicked open to reveal an old, surprised Bilbo. He wore a dashing waistcoat and non-wrinkled pants, looking every bit of the eccentric gentleman I remembered him to be.

"Gandalf? Yáviën?"

I smiled widely, setting down the crate I had been carrying and pulled him into a hug. "Hello again, my friend!"

"Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf grinned, kneeling down to hug the hobbit.

"Oh, Gandalf!" Bilbo exclaimed joyfully. "My dear Gandalf! Yáviën, my dear, you look stunning as always! Oh goodness, gracious you haven't aged a day! I know it's only been four years, but I swear I felt lighter in step back then!"

I laughed. "Your kind words are flattering indeed, though if I did appear to age even a day I could not call myself an elf."

My attempt at humor sent the two into chuckles.

"Good to see you," Gandalf smiled. "One hundred and eleven years old; I can't believe it! You are the one who hasn't aged a day."

A look of curiosity crossed over his face as if he were staring down some sort of oddity or complex puzzle. Some chuckles caused it to fade, but it failed to leave my mind.

Bilbo practically hopped back into his home, filled with elation from our unexpected arrival.

"Come on, come in! Welcome, Welcome!" he smiled, gleefully holding his door open to graciously allow us inside after everything was unloaded, and the young crowd had been shooed away by Gandalf, who promised them plenty when the time came.

As we straightened out, Bilbo willingly took Gandalf's hat and staff, along with my deep blue cloak.

"Tea? Or maybe something a little stronger? I've got some of the old Wineyard left. 1296: very good year, almost as old as I am! Hahahahaha!" He laughed heartily, placing our things against a nearby wall and disappearing down a corridor. "It was laid down by my father. What say we open one, eh?"

I watched Gandalf back into the chandelier, duck underneath, and hold it steady for a few moments to stop its swinging. He proceeded to turn, bump his head, and shout in pain.

"OHH!"

I tried to stifle my uprising laughter, but it only turned into a snicker. "Are you alright?"

Gandalf sent me a half-glare. "Yes, I'm fine my dear. Even if you are only half-concerned."

"Oh please, you would be laughing if it was me!"

He found himself unable to argue at that point. We were in the kitchen when I realized Bilbo was still speaking.

"I was expecting you sometime last week. Not that it matters, you both come and go as you please, always have done, always will. You've caught me a bit unprepared, I'm afraid... we've only got cold chicken, bit of pickle, some cheese here... ooh, no, that might be a little risky..."

I smiled at Bilbo's fretting. His heart was so warm and kind; it put everyone but himself first. Somehow, he still remained a gentleman.

On the way into the kitchen, Gandalf stopped at a nearby table, gingerly picking up what seemed to be a framed map. I joined him to discover it was Thorin's map of the Misty Mountains.

It reminded me of old times when calloused, strong hands held that very map, eyes burning with determination.

Cheery songs and dances around the campfire, cheeky jokes, silly charades of mischief... those days were ones I missed. But all things had their end. I just wished the ending to those wild, oddly exciting times had not been so heartbreaking.

Bilbo's incessant babbling could be heard faintly. I wandered around the house with Gandalf to the kitchen where the hobbit was.

"Oh-no! We're all right, I just found some sponge cake! Nice little snack. Hope it's enough. I could do you some eggs if you'd like-"

I heard Bilbo stop and shuffle around. "Gandalf? Yáviën?"

We appeared behind him, causing him to jump and nearly drop the plate of half-eaten pork pie in his hands.

"Just tea, thank you," Gandalf answered with a smile.

"Same for me as well," I grinned, Bilbo returning it albeit a bit bashfully.

"Oh, right!" he muffled out between mouthfuls of pie, "You don't mind if I eat, do you?"

"Oh, not at all." Gandalf shrugged.

"It does not bother me in the slightest."

I had to deal with dwarves and their voracious appetites as well as vacant manners, which I acclimated to rather quickly. Bilbo's munching on pork pie was the least of things to irritate me.

Vicious knocking at the door and a woman practically screaming Bilbo's name prompted the hobbit to push himself up against the wall.

Gandalf frowned at the reaction while I scowled.

Not even when the dwarves came barging into his quaint hobbit-hole did he ever display such a reaction. In fact, he was quite furious and began ranting. That meant it could only be...

"I'm not at home!" Bilbo whispered, tiptoeing to the window in order to identify the visitors. "It's the Sackville-Bagginses!"

I knew it.

His relatives continued to pound away at the door with a demand for Bilbo's being to get the door and let them in, but it seemed Bilbo did not care.

"They're after the house!"

Again? I thought I threatened them against it when I was last in Hobbiton.

The hobbit before me silently crept away from the window back over to the kitchen.

"They've never forgiven me for living this long! I've got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace!" Bilbo ranted while Gandalf and I sat down at the table.

"Shall I answer and greet them with my charming smile and a notched arrow?" I offered with an eager grin.

The Sackville-Bagginses and I continued to despise one another. I would love nothing more than to notify them of my presence.

My dear hobbit friend blanched, shaking his hand after considering it a moment. "No no no, that won't be necessary. Even though... well, I do always love seeing them put in their place, but... no, they're always even more irate when you leave."

"Oh? Well then, I should incentivize them further. At a later date, of course. I will respect your wishes, mellon nin."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," he smiled, then sighed heavily as he stared into the distance with a wanton expression, "Oh, I want to see mountains again! Mountains, Gandalf! And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book! Oh, tea!"

"So, you mean to go through with your plan, then," the wizard finally spoke.

"Yes, yes, all the arrangements are made."

Gandalf opened the lid for Bilbo to slowly pour in the tea. "Very well. It's no good saying any more. Stick to your plan – your whole plan, mind – and I hope it will turn out for the best, for you, and for all of us."

"I hope so. Anyway I mean to enjoy myself on Thursday, and have my little joke," he chuckled conspiratorially.

"Who will laugh, I wonder?" Gandalf sighed, shaking his head.

"We'll see."

I, however, was not so lenient. "Bilbo, Frodo suspects something."

The grey wizard beside me hummed in agreement, sipping at his tea. I followed suit. Hm... raspberry, citrus, a hint of mint... quite pleasant, but needed a lump of sugar.

Bilbo merely scoffed. "Of course he does! He's a Baggins, not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle."

"You will tell him, won't you?"

"Yes, yes."

Gandalf pressed him further. "He's very fond of you."

My dear, smaller friend paused while regret and tenderness washed over his face. "I know. He'd probably come with me if I asked him. I think in his heart, Frodo's still in love with the Shire. The woods, the fields... little rivers. I'm old, Gandalf. I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart."

Following Gandalf's gaze, my eyes rested on the pocket as Bilbo continued to fidget around in it.

"I feel... thin, sort of stretched like... butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I mean not to."

I heard the ominous tone in Bilbo's voice whilst he spoke somberly, but what concerned me more was the item in his pocket.

It was surrounded by a dark aura. Something about it was… familiar… and yet, I could not help but feel drawn to it… it almost felt as if it was promising me something.

Power, strength, control… perhaps it _could_ help…

However, my train of thought came to a halt when a voice called my name. I blinked, realizing I'd been moving closer to Bilbo with my eyes glued to his pocket. I inclined my head to see Gandalf gazing at me worriedly.

 _"I am fine,"_ I smiled reassuringly, but the feeling inside of me did not waver nor disappear. "I... think I should rest. Perhaps it is from the strain of the long journey from my travels. Wake me when your carts have arrived."

We exchanged nods before I walked into one of the spare bedrooms, lying down onto the bed and placing my head onto the pillow, my closest hand next to my face while I turned onto my side.

"What in the world just happened?" I murmured as I pondered over it and kicked off my shoes.

"Is it possible that was the darkness I sensed sixty years ago? During one of our little adventures..." I recalled, shivering slightly. "How odd... why would Bilbo carry around such a thing?"

Sleep tugged at my mind, and I did not resist its pull as my eyes drifted shut.

* * *

**Outside**

While Yáviën slept, Bilbo and Gandalf sat on the front porch, smoking their pipes as preparations for his party continued; merry laughter and conversation stirred below with bright lights twinkling.

"Old Toby: the finest weed in the South Farthing," Bilbo murmured before blowing out a smoke ring.

Gandalf himself blew out a smoke ship to sail through it.

The hobbit smiled contentedly. "Gandalf my old friend, it will be a night to remember."

While the wizard had missed the hobbit and was enjoying his company, his mind was troubled by the events from earlier. Never had he seen an elf, much less one as passionate and focused as Yáviën, so distracted.

Granted, she went through many trials in her long life which might have worn her down, but this seemed different.

Perhaps he would ask her at the party…

* * *

**Several Days Later; September 22nd (the day of the party)**

**Yáviën**

Gandalf felt his back beginning to ache slightly from being hunched inside Bilbo's warm hobbit hole to awaken Yáviën, who was resting after tirelessly aiding in preparations for the past several days.

He knocked on the door softly, hearing a grumbled, "Come in."

Chuckling, the old wizard turned the knob and entered, spotting the elleth's form curled up underneath the covers of the bed. "Yáviën, echuio (wake up)."

With a loud sigh, the she-elf threw the blankets back, dragging some of the sheets with her in her groggy state, sliding off the bed. She smoothed it out, fixing her slightly tangled hair with a brush Bilbo gifted her.

"Hannon le, Gandalf. _I must prepare for the party, so if you would be so kind..._ "

The grey wizard nodded. _"Of course. I shall see you in a moment then."_

Yáviën smiled, returning the sentiment. She decided to pull out the leather strip holding her twisted hair back, letting the rich dark brown ringlets bounce over her shoulders.

Usually, her hair would be flowing and straight, but for this special occasion, she curled it with a spell. The magic of the Maia and the might of Fëanor flowed through her veins.

A spell so simple required little exertion.

The elleth pulled on a dress solely Hobbit-based, styled for an elf her size. She made it years ago during her last stay in case any special occasions occurred during her visits.

It wasn't as if she grew anymore; though learning how to sew the dress hadn't been one of her fondest memories, what with all of her failed attempts and the numerous holes she'd poked into her fingers with the blasted needle.

Rosie was a magnificent teacher, but the elleth knew it'd take nothing short of a miracle for her to appreciate and master the craft.

The only form of sewing she excelled at was sewing wounds shut. And that was only due to repeated attempts from her own skirmishes.

The top half was white while the long skirt was green. Just like almost every other Hobbit dress, the neckline which revealed her collar bones was slightly frilly, as were the parts around her wrists.

Once the dress was on, Yáviën tied on a black corset with golden and green vine designs around it. After she finished and was satisfied with her appearance, she exited the room, closing the door behind her to head down to the party with gifts in hand.

Gandalf was already setting off one of his fireworks, as it was already six-thirty, which shot out into the sky to explode into the shape of a great green tree with unfolding branches as glowing flowers rained down just above the heads of hundreds of delighted hobbits.

A giant cake was being carried and people were cheering as Frodo danced. She saw Bilbo greeting guests as they entered.

"Hello, hello, Fatty Bolger, lovely to see you! Welcome, Welcome!"

He handed them gifts while his numerous guests made their way to the party, as was per Hobbit tradition: on the person's birthday, they gave everyone else gifts.

Yáviën approached him, despite him busy with guest-greeting. She didn't trust the Sackville-Bagginses if she placed her gifts on a table somewhere.

"Bilbo, mellon nin, I have a present for you. Or, well, a couple of them, really."

His eyes lit up even as he continued to greet guests. "Do you? Oh, my dear, you didn't have to."

She shook her head, handing him the carving and golden necklace. "No, I believe I did. It is hand-carved, and the necklace is of great significance to me. However, it has served its purpose, and I was hoping it would bring you as much good fortune as it did to me."

The eccentric hobbit beamed, wrapping his smaller arms around her tall, thin frame. "Thank you, Yávi. It means the world to me."

She reciprocated the hug, smiling into his shoulder. "You are very welcome."

"Do you mind if I ask who it's from?"

Her countenance dimmed, full of grief. She leaned down to whisper in his ear. When she pulled away, his expression was just as forlorn as hers.

"Oh, my dear… I can't possibly take this."

"No, please, she would have wanted you to have it. Our friendship is stronger than that of a trinket, and I do not require it any longer. Please, if not for me, then for her."

"Alright, alright… if you insist. Ah… if only she were here. She'd have loved the party; or at least the amount of drinks! Hah…"

Yáviën smiled, shaking away her sadness. "Indeed! And it is a joyous occasion! Let us not dwell on the past any further, mellon."

They parted ways as the guests continued to pour in. She grinned when she spotted two heads of curly, bright orange-red hair.

Walking over she caught the two hobbits off-guard. "I do believe I missed those heads of brightly-colored hair, of course except the times when their acts of mischief involved me as the victim. I remember one, in particular, was putting toads in my shoes and covering the slime all over the exterior."

Spinning around abruptly, the two hobbits looked at her in surprise.

"Yáviën!" they cried out, wrapping their small arms around her.

She laughed and hugged them back. "Pippin! Merry! It's been far too long, my friends."

"You're looking extravagant tonight, Yávi! We hardly recognized you!" Merry beamed.

"Yes, you look very beautiful!" Pippin agreed.

She chuckled. "Why thank you, Master Hobbits. I take it you will not be stirring any trouble tonight? It is Bilbo and Frodo's birthday, after all."

The two hobbits shared a glance before stepping back.

"W-well, it's been a pleasure, Yávi, but we have some business we need to attend to!"

"That's right! Very important business! That's not at all suspicious!"

Merry jabbed Pippin in the side with his elbow while sending him a look, and the two ran off.

Yáviën groaned as she placed her hands on her hips. "No doubt I was expecting too much. The trouble a Took and a Brandybuck can create still amazes me..."

She spotted Frodo sitting down with another hobbit with golden-red curly hair. Smiling, she strolled over to where they were sitting just in time to see Frodo shoo the other hobbit away to dance with her friend Rosie.

She caught the pretty hobbit's eyes as she sent her a wink and mouthed, _Good luck!_

Rosie blushed in response but smiled before whisking away Sam to merrily dance with other couples.

Yáviën took Sam's spot next to Frodo, surprising him momentarily until he latched onto her in the form of a hug. "Yávi! I thought you were going to be late. You look beautiful!"

"Thank you, I am flattered," she smiled back. "That bashful Sam. He has not changed, has he?"

"No, he hasn't. Although I'm rather glad I intervened; he seems to be enjoying himself," Frodo grinned, watching the two hobbits dance in each other's arms.

"Do you still not fancy anyone, Master Baggins? Even when you are now of age?"

He blushed out of embarrassment, his smile small. "No, not really. I guess I've just never really wanted to, and because of Uncle's reputation I think they've been warned away from me."

Yáviën snorted, looking away in distaste. "They do not know what they are missing out on, then. I am sure you will find someone someday, Master Frodo - someone who loves books, and life, and even adventures from time to time. And above all else, of course, you."

Frodo's smiled grew wider. "Thanks, Yávi. Who knows, maybe I will stumble across the right person. But until then, I'm fine having fun with my friends."

"As you should. Life is only so short." The brunette nodded in agreement, squeezing Frodo's shoulder gently with a warm smile.

Glancing around, she noticed Gandalf lighting another firework that burst out like a bubble then flew outwards, Bilbo telling children accounts of his adventures she so fondly remembered, and...

Merry and Pippin were sneaking around Gandalf's fireworks wagon.

_'Oh, no... this does not bode well.'_

Dread yanked at her mind, though she decided not to involve herself in any scheme they might've planned. It was not her concern, though she knew anything the Brandybuck and Took did they would be rightly punished for.

"Frodo, I have a gift for you on this very special birthday of yours," Yáviën remarked, bringing out the leather-bound journal.

"You do? But Yávi-"

"No buts! A lot of time and effort went into making this, so you must accept it! No returns or take-backs allowed."

Frodo couldn't help the amused smile which spread across his face from her jesting tone and quirked brow while she handed him the journal.

He accepted it, reading the title aloud. " _The Basics of Sindarin: Learning the Language of the Elves."_

Instantly a bright smile illuminated his features, tackling the she-elf in a tight hug. "It's wonderful, Yávi! I love it!"

She laughed, patting his back. "I'm glad."

The coming-of-age hobbit placed it safely on a table where he knew no one would risk taking it. At least they didn't have to worry about the Sackville-Bagginses: they were only interested in jewels and gold.

And Bilbo's house.

"Yávi, may I have this dance?" Frodo smiled as he dramatically bowed, holding out a hand.

The said elf laughed merrily, accepting his hand. "Of course you may!"

Frodo led her to the area where everyone was dancing as the two joined in for quite a while. She even switched between him, Gandalf, and a few hobbits bold enough to ask her.

She hadn't danced so freely in decades.

Her heart soared, and her laughter filled the air with hundreds of others.

However, it was cut off when Bilbo appeared to drag Frodo away, whispering about hiding from the Sackville-Bagginses.

Chuckling, the she-elf wandered and found herself standing next to Gandalf, admiring his fireworks with a gentle smile. It faded after a pause of silence, her thoughts turning to pressing matters.

"Gandalf, there is something I desire to speak with you about."

"Yes? What is it, my dear?"

" _It is regarding my trance-like state back in the kitchen..._ " The elleth answered in her native tongue.

" _Go on then._ "

" _In Bilbo's pocket, I sensed something. It spoke to me, Gandalf, whatever it was. It promised me power. And yet, I couldn't help but be drawn to it. I felt it pulling me in, but... I could not stop myself._ "

Yáviën resisted the urge to fidget. She prided herself on her self control and willpower, aside from her combat prowess. It disturbed her that she couldn't break free of her trance on her own.

"I see. That's most concerning, and I thank you for telling me about this. I will see what I can do. In the meantime, try to take your mind off of it, my dear. Enjoy yourself! It's a party after all, and you should relish in its splendor," the elderly wizard reassured her, a warm smile on his face.

Feeling as if a massive weight had been relinquished from her shoulders, Yáviën sighed in relief. Her own smile returned, the pit in her stomach gone.

"Alright, I shall try. Thank you, Gandalf. And I also thank you for preventing my trance-like state from continuing, or I'm uncertain what might have happened."

"You're very welcome. Now go and have fun! It's not every day where you are able to enjoy yourself so freely such as tonight."

Nodding and sending him a wave, she hurried off to rejoin in the dancing.

However, a frown soon crossed over onto Gandalf's features, with his many wrinkles carving into his face as he pondered on the item Bilbo carried which unnerved Yáviën.


	3. Birthday Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Frodo's birthday is in full swing, and the events of LOTR begin to unfold, starting with Bilbo's separation from the One Ring.

**Disclaimer: Hmm...nope, the rights still don't belong to me.**

**As a reminder some of the Sindarin that will be in here I don't know, so it's sadly going to be a mix of Sindarin and italics. I'm going to use these icons (') for thoughts, since they will also be in italics.**

* * *

**Merry and Pippin**

Pippin hopped into the wagon while Merry kept a lookout for Gandalf, who was busy entertaining children with his fireworks and little magic tricks.

The Took heaved out one of the fireworks to show Merry, who scowled disapprovingly.

"No, no, the big one! The big one!"

Scanning through the fireworks, Pippin laid his eyes on a large red and gold one resembling a dragon.

Merry smiled in satisfaction while gazing in awe at the sight of it. Pippin hopped out of the wagon with his fellow Brandybuck following close behind into a tent, one holding up the firework as the other lit a match.

Merry, who had been holding it up, pushed it over to Pippin fearfully. "You're supposed to stick it in the ground!"

"It _is_ in the ground!" Pippin retorted in a panicked voice, shoving it back to him.

"Outside!"

"It was your idea!" Pippin exclaimed, attempting to toss the sizzling firework back to Merry when it shot out into the sky, taking the tent with it as the other guests watched in awe.

The firework exploded, gaining the attention of a certain elf and wizard as it turned into a dragon, shifting its direction back to the party members.

Yáviën, alarmed by the commotion, swiveled her head and gasped as everyone began to scream and panic, scrambling to escape the incoming firework. Looking around she tried to locate Frodo and Bilbo in the chaos, finally succeeding when she saw Frodo moving his elder uncle out of the way.

 _'They will be fine, they will be fine... just believe in them, Yávi. That blasted Brandybuck and Took, however, are_ far _from it,'_ the elleth mentally reassured herself, swiftly ducking to avoid the magical explosive.

As soon as it passed over her head, she locked eyes on the duo of Bagginses. She sighed in relief when they both dropped to the ground for safety.

The dragon barrelled into the sky and burst into a beautiful display of colorful sparks. The many hobbits smiled in awe, staring at the popping firework.

Standing up straight and reeling on her heels, the elleth settled her eyes on two smoking hobbits with soot covering them from head to toe.

Sending them a penetrating death glare, she stormed her way over to them, fastening her pace when they started talking.

"That was good." Merry grinned as if the beautiful firework hadn't just nearly collided with hundreds of guests.

Pippin smiled eagerly. "Let's get another one."

Strong hands pinched their ears tightly, eliciting cries of pain from the duo. Gandalf glowered down at them beside an irate Yáviën.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck. And Peregrin Took. I might have known."

Yáviën glanced at him apologetically. "I must apologize, Gandalf. I spotted them snooping around your wagon, but I did not find it my business to investigate."

"You mustn't blame yourself, my dear. It's not your fault for their wrongdoing."

Her grey-blue eyes settled on the two hobbits before she decided to smack them both upside the head.

"Ow!" "Ouch!"

They cried out in unison, all while Gandalf continued to tightly grip their ears.

"You two obviously do not realize the danger of the stunt you just pulled. Any of those guests could have gotten injured if they hadn't been paying attention!" she chided, her blue-grey eyes blazing.

Merry and Pippin simply pouted.

In the end, they were punished by scrubbing the endless stream of incoming dishes as Gandalf sat in a chair nearby to keep an eye on them.

Yáviën suppressed a smug smile, meandering over to hand the Took and Brandybuck more dishes.

"Here you go!"

Pippin struggled with the stack, teetering a little before managing to set them down into the sink. Both wore scowls while they worked.

"Use some more elbow grease!" Yáviën laughed, thoroughly enjoying their suffering.

The two hobbits glared at her, forcing her to move away when they began flicking dirty dishwater in her direction. The situation devolved into the duo chasing her in order to dump a pot full of the filthy water on her while she gracefully ran away laughing.

* * *

**Yáviën's POV**

After a while of fun and games, the amassed hobbits demanded a speech from Bilbo. Even Frodo joined in with the crowd's request.

I beamed, seating myself beside him as my old friend walked up to face all of us.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, and Proudfoots." He began, with each family cheering when their name was called.

"Proudfeet!" A Proudfoot member yelled correctively.

Everyone erupted into laughter. Bilbo waved it away.

"Today's my one hundred and eleventh birthday!"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" The many family members cheered, drunk both literally and figuratively from the party atmosphere.

"And alas, the last eleventy-one years has been too short a time to live amongst such excellent and admirable hobbits."

His relatives cheered once more in delight.

"I don't know half of you as half as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

Said hobbits exchanged befuddled glances, uncertain of whether to accept his remark as a compliment or an insult.

I smiled amusingly, looking back briefly to see Gandalf do the same.

"I, um..." Bilbo paused, shifting his coat to burrow his hand into his waistcoat pocket, where the dark item was being contained.

My eyes narrowed, the surge of power once again momentarily stealing my attention.

"I h-have things to do."

He pulled the item out of his pocket, although I couldn't make out what it was since my old friend kept it concealed in his curled hand. He brought it to join with his free left hand behind his back.

A distant look entered Bilbo's eyes, one I'd never seen before. "I've put this off far too long."

I shifted a little uncomfortably. Worry and concern washed over me.

"I regret to announce this is the end. I'm going now. I bid you all a very fun farewell."

His eyes turned to land on someone in particular, his tone apologetic and serious. Following his gaze, I discovered it was Frodo.

"Goodbye."

And then he was gone.

Everyone gasped, not believing what they just witnessed. Even I allowed a small gasp of my own escape my lips in surprise.

Glancing over at Frodo I watched him look at the empty stool in disbelief. Out of the corner of my eye, Gandalf excused himself from the crowd. He must hold some answers.

I racked my mind on theories as to how exactly Bilbo managed the feat of disappearing as he did. A possibility entered my thoughts, though it was not pleasant and sent a shiver down my spine.

"It cannot be..."

"What can't be, Yávi?" Frodo inquired beside me.

Apparently I had spoken louder than I desired to.

"What? Oh, nothing Frodo," I smiled, gently squeezing his shoulder. "But what about you? Are you all right? I know this is... sudden and unsettling."

The poor hobbit gazed down at the ground solemnly. "Yes, I just... I suppose I never believed he'd really do it. Leave, that is. He spoke about it often, but I never took him seriously. And now..."

I stared at him with pity and sympathy.

Being parted with a loved one was very difficult.

I was usually not one for emotional talks, so I rose to my feet and offered him a small smile. "Come, I think I spotted Gandalf leaving the party. How about we find out what exactly is occurring?"

Frodo smiled back at me and nodded in agreement. "Sure..."

It took him a while to move. For long moments he simply gazed at Bilbo's last known spot, a forlorn expression haunting his features.

Giving him time to himself, I busied myself with the clean-up for the party, giving away the extra food or packing it for hobbits, wiping down tables, and handing dishes to the Took and Brandybuck manning the sinks.

I chuckled when I saw the mountains of dirty plates, utensils, bowls, and cups waiting to be scrubbed. The poor hobbits appeared near the point of breaking down into tears.

Poor things.

Curse my bleeding heart...

"Here, let me take some," I offered, grabbing a few plates and dipping them into the soapy water.

Both assaulted me with cries of joy and tight hugs that made me feel like my lungs were failing me.

"Oh, thank you Yávi! Words can't express how I feel right now!"

"Yes, you're a lovely elf-angel!"

"That is wonderful, but can you... please... let go? I cannot... breathe properly!" I gasped, prying them off. "Besides, I think you two have been punished enough."

The two were grinning from ear to ear as they worked harder at finally finishing the dreadful chore.

 _'I hope Frodo is ready to leave soon... I need answers as well,'_ I thought, sighing in contemplation.

* * *

**Gandalf**

He silently observed Bilbo stealthily enter his house, pull off the ring, toss it in the air, and push it back into his pocket with a triumphant chuckle, also nabbing a rolled-up parchment of some sort and a walking stick he attained years ago.

As he entered the living room, Gandalf stood waiting for him amidst the dimly lit room, clearly displeased.

"I suppose you think that was terribly clever," he expostulated, staring down the startled Bilbo.

"Come on, Gandalf," Bilbo grumbled.

He spun around with a delighted grin on his aged face. "Did you see the looks on their faces!?"

Gandalf simply continued to glower at him while he chuckled, similar to how a father would look at a child who just shattered their neighbor's window intentionally.

"There are many magic rings in the world, Bilbo Baggins, but none of them should be used lightly."

"It was only a bit of fun!"

Underneath Gandalf's glare, he caved as he moved from his spot near a table.

"Oh, you're probably right Gandalf, as usual. You will keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?" he requested, grasping his smoking pipe from atop the lit fireplace that repelled the surrounding darkness.

"Two eyes. And as often as I can spare them," Gandalf replied wittily. "I shall also ask Yáviën to aid in the task. She has grown highly fond of him over the years, and I daresay she would be delighted to accept."

A sound of relief and a murmured, "thanks", came from Bilbo, who ambled around the room to gather up his unfinished book into his arms.

"I'm leaving everything to him."

* * *

**Yáviën**

She, at last, completed the dishes with Pippin and Merry, heading over to the presents table directly afterward.

"I know it was in the front row somewhere..." she murmured, scanning through the various gifts.

A golden glint caught her eye, causing her to smile.

"There it is!"

She snatched up her golden necklace and the carving she planned to hand over to Bilbo. Too many weeks of her life were spent perfecting the little piece of woodwork, and she didn't plan on having her hard work go to waste.

"Now to find Frodo."

He was surprisingly easy to find amongst the many hobbits as Yáviën weaved her way over to him.

"Are you ready now?"

Frodo nodded.

"Well then, let's depart," she patted his shoulder, leading the way to Bilbo's.

She could, if she chose, easily strut ahead and leave Frodo to his own thoughts while she investigated at Bag-End alone, but she desired his company. And, she sensed, he needed hers.

Along the way, they were stopped by Sam: Frodo and Bilbo's gardener.

"Hello Mister Frodo, Miss Yáviën."

It was evident he too was disturbed by Bilbo's little disappearing act, though he forced a smile regardless.

"Hey, Sam," Frodo answered, smiling back uneasily.

"Greetings, Master Samwise." Yáviën nodded.

"Are you going to Bilbo's house?"

"Yes. I'm hoping he'll be there..."

"I see. Shall I walk with you, then?" Sam offered, but his friends simply shook their heads.

Frodo glanced in the direction of Bag-End, distracted by his swirling thoughts and what occurred. "No, it's fine, Sam. Thanks."

"Your concern is appreciated, Master Sam. But I believe this is a matter only Frodo and I should attend to. Go and enjoy the rest of your evening with Rosie," Yáviën smiled, sending him a wink.

Sam blushed brightly. "W-well... alright. If you say so, Miss Yáviën."

She tipped her head in agreement and parting while he made his leave. Looking back at Frodo, she frowned as she spotted the downcast look on his face. She placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Do not fret too much, my friend. I am sure Bilbo has his reasons."

"Right..."

Despite her efforts, he was still unconvinced.

* * *

**Gandalf**

"What about this ring of yours, or is that staying too?" Gandalf inquired, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Yes, yes," he answered dismissively.

He turned to point to the top of the fireplace. "It's in the envelope over there on top of the mantelpiece."

Gandalf sent him a short nod, shambling over to retrieve the envelope.

"No, wait it's... here in my pocket..." Bilbo's voice drifted as he fished it out. Twirling it in his hands, he chuckled weakly. "Isn't that... isn't that odd... after all, why not? Why shouldn't I keep it?"

"I think you should leave the ring behind, Bilbo. Or is that so hard?" Gandalf requested.

Bilbo spun on his heels to look up at him. "Well, no... And yes."

Glancing back at the ring he continued to speak in a more loving, yet almost crazed, fervent and desperate voice.

"Now it comes to it. I don't feel like parting with it, it's mine, I found it. It came to me!"

"There's no need to get angry."

Bilbo snapped his head to see Gandalf out of the corner of his eye. "Well if I'm angry it's your fault!"

The grey wizard stared with wide eyes at the swift and sudden change in his behavior.

"It's mine... my own... my precious..."

"Precious? It was called that before, but not by you..."

Outraged, Bilbo turned, growling at the wizard. "What business is it of yours what I do with my own things?!" His voice, shape, and manner morphed into something else entirely.

"I think you've had that quite long enough."

"You want it for yourself!"

"BILBO BAGGINS!" The wizard roared, making the elderly hobbit stumble back as shadows coated the interior of the room.

"DO NOT TAKE ME FOR SOME CONJURER OF CHEAP TRICKS! I am not trying to rob you!" His voice bellowed then lowered, allowing the darkness to lift.

Gandalf's features softened, expressing his earnest tenderness for him and the desire to aid. "I'm trying to help you."

Bilbo, eyes still wide with fright, murmured some incoherent jumbles before hugging Gandalf like a lost child.

"All your long years, we've been friends. Trust me as you once did. Hmm? Let it go."

"You're right, Gandalf. The ring must go to Frodo."

He grabbed his pack crammed full of treasured items and needed supplies. Swinging it over his shoulders, he headed for the door, swinging it open with his walking stick in hand.

"It's late, the road is long. Yes, it is time."

"Bilbo?"

He froze as Gandalf cautiously advanced towards him.

"The ring is still in your pocket."

He smiled warily. "Oh, yes."

Withdrawing it from his pocket, Bilbo briefly meeting Gandalf's eyes. Gazing at the ring cradled in his palm, he summoned the last of his willpower to slowly tilt his hand, allowing the band of gold to clatter to the floor.

_Clank!_

Then he hurriedly went out the door.

Raising his hand to the night sky, he heaved a sigh. "I thought up an ending for my book."

He turned to his old friend, who joined him outside to stand beside him.

"And he lived happily ever after. To the end of his days."

The old wizard cracked a grin as he knelt down to him. "And I'm sure you will, my dear friend."

Bilbo stuck out his hand, ever the gentleman. "Goodbye, Gandalf."

Gandalf shook it with a smile. "Goodbye, dear Bilbo."

The halfling gave one last small smile as he turned and headed off for his long journey ahead, beginning to sing a cheery tune.

"The road goes ever on and on,  
down from the door where it began..."

"Until our next meeting," Gandalf murmured softly, returning inside to stare down the malevolent ring glinting on the floor.

He bent down to pick it up with a puzzled expression. His fingers only lightly brushed against the piece of magical jewelry before an evil power, the one that had Bilbo so entranced, surged. A distant hum entered his ears.

So, he left it there on the floor while he settled down in a chair, gazing into the fireplace and smoking on his pipe.

His eyes were narrowed in concentration, recalling Bilbo's words.

_"It's mine... my only... my precious..."_

"Riddles in the dark..." he muttered, recalling when the hobbit had gotten separated from the rest of Thorin's Company in the Misty Mountains.

It could not be a coincidence...

"Bilbo! Bilbo!" Frodo shouted as he swung open the door, the leather-bound journal from Yáviën tucked under his free arm.

Spotting the ring, he plucked it off the floor in curiosity.

Yáviën entered after him, her elven ears picking up Gandalf's mumbles of a 'precious'.

Once her eyes rested on the ring, she sensed the dreadful aura and the dark whispers once more. Gasping, she backed away into the living room.

"What's wrong, Yávi?" Frodo frowned, turning towards her as he was oblivious to the power of the ring.

"It-it's nothing, Frodo. Just please keep that away from me."

Frodo frowned, utterly perplexed, but nodded in understanding. He turned to the grey wizard mumbling to himself, his body stiff in anticipation of an answer he knew he would receive.

"He's gone, hasn't he?"

"... my own." Gandalf once again muttered.

"He talked for so long about leaving. I didn't think he'd really do it. Gandalf?" Frodo spoke, walking over to the elderly wizard, who was still lost in his own thoughts.

"Hmm..." Gandalf turned away from the fireplace, looked at the ring for a brief few seconds before smiling at the poor hobbit.

"Bilbo's ring. He's gone to stay with the elves. He's left you Bag-End." He told him, holding out an open envelope.

Frodo dropped in the ring as Gandalf sealed the envelope. He then offered it to the confused and heart-broken hobbit, as if it were simply another birthday present.

"He's left you all his possessions. The ring is yours now. Keep it somewhere out of sight."

Having said his piece, Gandalf began to exit the quaint hobbit hole.

"Where are you going?" Frodo called out, immensely befuddled as to what was occurring.

"There are some things I must see to."

"What things?"

"Questions. Questions that need answering." Gandalf grabbed his staff and hat from their resting places against a wall.

"But you've only just arrived!" The hobbit argued. "I don't understand!"

Yáviën was just as confused, absently following beside Frodo as her thoughts wandered, causing her mouth to upturn into a slight frown and her eyebrows to furrow

Sensing Frodo's building frustration and confusion, Gandalf stopped right in front of the wooden door.

"Neither do I."

He placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to convey reassurance. "Keep it secret. And keep it safe."

Gandalf averted his eyes to the elleth standing a few feet behind Frodo. "Yáviën, I need someone to remain here with Frodo. Protect him and the ring. I will need someone to be able to alert me if anything happens."

She nodded, grim understanding shining in her grey-blue irises. "Of course, Gandalf. Navaer (Farewell)."

The elleth brought up her right hand to touch her left shoulder, bowing slightly.

Gandalf did the same with a smile. "Navaer."

And with that, he strode outside, closing the door behind him.

A certain emptiness filled the room. Gandalf oozed a presence of safety and comfort and warmth. The lack of it left the house feeling colder; less welcoming. The absence of Bilbo didn't help either.

Frodo and Yáviën were left with only the company of one another.

The said hobbit looked down at the envelope in his hands, wondering why in the world Gandalf was so concerned about a simple trinket.

Unnerved by the icy grip of silence in the room, Yáviën cleared her throat in an effort to try and cheer Frodo up with a forced grin.

"Don't fret, Frodo. Gandalf shall return in time."

"I hope you're right..."

Although neither of them was sure how much time it would take.


	4. The Years Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year passes since Bilbo's planned departure and Gandalf's abrupt one. Yáviën finds peace more difficult to adjust to than she imagined, and Frodo struggles to accept his newfound reality. Gandalf's quest for answers leads him across Arda. The beginning of the end is near...

**Disclaimer: Still don't own LOTR. I'd discuss it with Tolkien, but that's kinda out of the question.**

* * *

**Yáviën's POV**

A year passed since Gandalf's departure.

I faced boredom.

I thought I could entertain myself by gardening with Sam and observing my troublesome Took and Brandybuck friends, but I underestimated how long I could stand remaining in the same location.

The only exceptions in my life were Imladris when I was commander of the army, and Lothlórien, when I would visit Darnaneth (grandmother) and Darada (grandfather) in Caras Galadhon.

It was more eventful in the beginning, though I was more agitated in a different manner.

A most irritating hassle ensued when Bilbo took his leave.

Relatives came uninvited, but not unexpectedly, to the dwelling in hopes of receiving anything of value. Bilbo - bless his kind heart - left parting gifts for specific relatives and hobbits.

Even the Sackville-Bagginses received something, though it was partly a joke and a jab at what Lobelia attempted to make off with several decades ago: Bilbo's silver spoons.

They were outraged by their parting gift, trying to bargain with poor Frodo the next few days as Merry guarded the house against anyone else demanding entrance.

Otho, Lobelia's husband, would have inherited the house if Bilbo hadn't adopted Frodo as his heir.

He even forced Frodo to see the will, and while he left when asked, Frodo and I discovered Lobelia poking her nose around nooks and corners to find anything high in price. To say there was lingering resentment was an understatement.

She claimed small (valuable) items randomly fell into her umbrella. Neither of us was convinced, and with my reinforcement, she was firmly led out.

Her parting words were not so clever: "You'll live to regret it, young fellow! Why didn't you go too? You don't belong here; you're no Baggins-you-you're a Brandybuck!"

Frodo hardly batted an eye at her scornful, angry words. Instead, he turned to Merry with a quirk of his lips as he shut the door. "Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like."

"It was a compliment," Merry grinned, "and so, of course, not true."

Even after dealing with the Sackville-Bagginses, many other greed-driven relatives investigated and intruded rooms in the beloved hobbit hole.

My patience meeting its end, I announced with blazing ire that should anyone attempt to ransack or make off with anything in the house, I would personally hunt them down and have them pay, in more ways than one, all of which were least pleasurable.

After that, all fell quiet.

Even the Sackville-Bagginses didn't dare trouble Frodo anymore in fear of my wrath. I was quite content with it.

Perhaps a bit proud, too.

Life in the Shire - once everyone left the home of Bilbo alone - was incredibly peaceful. I believed I would be content living in Bag End with Frodo. But unlike my siblings I was known as an idle soul, hardly ever staying in the same place for long.

Such was the life of someone like me.

So I did everything possible to keep myself busy: chores, sketching, gardening, even music. My interest dissipated in each of them within months.

I ached for battle or some kind of excitement. My old habit of sharpening my blades and practicing somewhere isolate intensified.

At least Frodo was able to keep his mind off of Gandalf and Bilbo to an extent. For the first few years, he couldn't stop thinking about them, but as time passed he grew to worry less. He even started reading the journal I got him and was comprehending the basics quite well.

Now he could speak several phrases and some coherent sentences.

I sat in a chair in front of Bilbo's fireplace, musing to myself as I gazed at the flickering flames.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my forehead with my right hand. "This is harder than I imagined..."

"What is, Yávi?"

Frodo stood near the door, his face pinched in concern. He must have returned recently and overheard my muttering.

"Oh, Frodo. It's nothing. Simply put, I am used to moving around often. Staying in the Shire for so long is becoming much more difficult than I imagined."

He didn't seem to quite understand by the way he tilted his head with his frown deepening. "Why would it become difficult to live in the Shire? It's one of the most peaceful places on Arda!"

"I know, and I love peace. The Shire is peaceful, tranquil, and cheerful. But I also love seeing different places, exploring, even fighting from time to time. I've been told that I have an adventurous spirit, Frodo. I get restless staying in one place for too long. I need _excitement_."

"Why would you get restless? It's only been a year!" he reasoned, slight creases deepening on his forehead.

"I know, dear hobbit. But I love wandering from place to place. Exploring the vast wilderness can be quite fulfilling. It is why I became a Ranger," I replied, standing from the chair to stretch my legs.

"What's a Ranger?"

"A Ranger is someone who usually wanders the wilderness, taking odd jobs and even helping people if they so choose. They're experienced in survival, which means finding your own food, tracking, and several other things. I love being independent and in the quiet of nature, so it is a perfect fit for me really."

"It sounds lonely," Frodo stated as I took a few steps forward, the polished wooden floor creaking beneath me.

It was all it took to reach him.

"I have lived for many years, Frodo. And for a countless number of them, I existed amongst numerous people of different races, in highly populated locations, and followed their customs. I have found that dwelling by myself is preferable. Besides, it is interesting to travel and meet new people in new places. And when time has passed, sometimes I return to places I've traveled to in the past and acquaint myself with the new generations."

The hobbit seemed to comprehend my reasoning. "I suppose that makes sense. I guess I just can't imagine what it's like to live as long as elves do. "

"It is indeed hard to understand. But I tend not to think about it too much. Birthdays become a part of everyday life once we are past a century old. Although once in a while some elves give a small gift of some sort to show they have never forgotten the importance of one's birth."

Frodo nodded, making his way over to the mantel of the fireplace, where the envelope containing the Ring rested.

"Have you ever gotten gifts like that?"

I pondered for a few seconds, my eyes darting to the orange-blue flames. Memories flashed through my mind due to the fire.

Blazing arrows whizzing through the air to burn through their targets, a torch warding away shrouding darkness, devastating fires eating away at everything in sight...

"Yes. By my friends, and occasionally, my family."

It dawned on me there was always a short pause before I mentioned my family. It was most irritating, but I found no way around it thus far. My friends who were so dear to me were closer to me than they.

Frodo continued to stare at the sealed paper, craning his neck to look at me. "You've never really spoken about your family. Do you... not get along with them?"

Sensing the hesitance in his voice, I shrugged.

"No. Well, my father does not agree with my way of life, but he loves me nevertheless. I have a sister and two elder brothers who happen to be twins. My mother... sailed to white shores long ago. I have a grandmother and grandfather. There simply isn't much to tell."

"You've always been such a mystery, Yávi. What's your family like?"

Albeit uncomfortable about the subject, I answered, "I know I've been said to be a little esoteric... Well, my father is very wise and kind. He is rather protective of my sister and I, despite acting solicitous towards everyone.

"It seems it is multiplied when it comes to us. My sister and I are twenty years apart in age, her being the elder sister. My twin brothers are only serious when it matters or when they're working; otherwise, they're complete hooligans. In a way, they remind me of Pippin and Merry."

The hobbit grinned in amusement, delight and familiarity dancing in his eyes. "They sound like fun."

"They are, indeed! Well, unless they decide it is fun to make my life increasingly difficult. I recall when they decided to try and embarrass me in front of a party of dwarves I was with." I recalled fondly from 61 years ago, grinning from the memory.

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they love seeing me make a fool of myself. But, I managed to patch up the situation. Although looking back now, I find it rather hilarious," I chuckled lightly from the fond memory.

"I'd like to meet them. If it's not too much to ask... where exactly do you come from, Yávi? What's it like?"

I opened my mouth to speak, however, a knock at the door interrupted our conversation.

Hunched over I made my way to the door, turning the golden brass knob to reveal the smiling face of Sam. "Oh, hello Miss Yávi. How're you faring today?"

"Greetings, Master Sam. I'm fine, thank you. Please come in," I smiled in return, stepping aside to allow the hobbit to enter the house.

He brushed some wavy copper strands out of his face. "Is Master Frodo here?"

I gestured to the said hobbit. "Indeed."

Frodo hurried over to Sam, a bright smile on his face. "Hello, Sam! How are you?"

"Doing just fine, Master Frodo."

"I assume you want to take Frodo somewhere, Samwise?"

"Yes, ma'am."

My eyes traveled to Frodo, a light smile ghosting over my lips. "Well then, I suppose I shouldn't keep you waiting? It isn't as if I'm your mother, after all."

Frodo's smile faltered. A chill bloomed in my chest.

Did he...?

It returned full force, though not without looking somewhat ingenuine. He swung the door wide open.

"Good day, Miss Yávi," Sam bowed before exiting through the open door.

A fresh breeze wafted into the house, the chill of the wind tingling my skin. I felt a sudden urge to ride Than and visit the mountains.

"See you soon, Yávi. Are you going to be alright?" Frodo asked me in concern.

"I'll be fine, Frodo. I think I'll venture out with Than for a while. If I'm not home when you return, do not fret. I can take care of myself." I replied, dipping my head slightly.

He nodded. "Okay. See you later, Yávi!"

The hobbit then left through the door, leaving it open for me.

Grabbing my cloak, one of my daggers, and my quiver arrows for protection as well as Than's saddle, I headed outside and down to a nearby meadow where he was grazing.

He whinnied at me joyfully and trotted towards me. I smiled at his open display of affection.

"Hello, Than. Do you want to go for a ride?"

Thangannas bobbed his head, tossing his silky mane.

"I'll take that as a yes." I chuckled, throwing his saddle neatly on his back before I hopped on.

* * *

**Frodo**

"I wonder what Gandalf's doing..." The dark-haired hobbit remarked, traipsing through the Shire with Sam at a lackadaisical pace.

He dearly missed the wise wizard. Gandalf always seemed to have an answer for everything, how to reassure everyone around him, how to make everything alright. Seeing him rush off seeking answers even he didn't possess worried him.

What if he'd gone somewhere dangerous? Wouldn't he need people to help? Why keep Yáviën with him if he was the one braving unknown dangers? What about the ring Bilbo left him terrified both of them so greatly?

Part of him didn't want to know, for he sensed that once he did, nothing would ever be the same again.

While he yearned to partake in an adventure as his uncle did, Frodo was still quite content and happy in the Shire.

"I don't know, Mister Frodo. Wizards can be pretty secretive." Sam replied, his light green eyes glimmering in the sun.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Mister Frodo?"

"What do you know about Yávi?"

"Not much, Mister Frodo. Miss Yávi is a rather private person. Why do you want to know?"

"I suppose I'm just curious. She told me a vague description of her family, and was about to tell me where she originated from..."

"I'm sorry Mister Frodo, I must've interrupted."

Frodo waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine, Sam. Don't worry about it."

He truly didn't hold a grudge against Sam for interrupting, but he did wish he could've heard Yáviën's answer. Throughout his whole life, Yáviën had been there for the most part. She practically helped raise him alongside Bilbo. He only recently realized how little he really knew about her.

Hearing her say that she wasn't his mother stung a bit.

Perhaps, without him realizing it, he'd tacked the mantle onto her out of a desire for some motherly figure. It wasn't her burden to bear; if she didn't wish to act as a mother to him, that was her choice. She still cared for him and protected him fiercely. He appreciated her greatly.

He only wished, at least, he knew her as well as she knew him.

It was only fair, right?

"But now that you mention it, I would like to at least know what her family is like."

The Baggins beside him gazed up at the vibrant blue sky, watching white clouds lazily drift across by puffs of wind.

"Well, she told me that she has a father that's a little too overprotective, an older sister, and twin older brothers. Apparently, her brothers are the troublemakers in the family."

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Even elves have troublemakers? I can't quite picture elves acting like Merry and Pippin."

Frodo laughed. "Well, I suppose not all elves are very serious. Like Yávi."

"Very true, Mister Frodo. Although Miss Yávi does have her serious moments."

They continued their stroll without conversation for a moment. Frodo continued to gaze at the sky in contemplation.

He wondered what it'd be like interacting with Yávi's brothers. Would they have a similar sense of humor to Pippin and Merry? How silly were they? What sorts of pranks had they performed?

And what of Yáviën's sister? Was she as beautiful as her? Did she have a sense of humor as well? Why did Yávi look so reluctant to even mention her?

Sam looked over at him with a troubled expression. "Do you think Bilbo is well?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Sam. I just wish he'd said goodbye." The dark-haired Baggins sighed, his countenance full of disappointment.

* * *

**Yáviën**

She galloped on Thangannas for miles, slowly leaving behind the Shire and its peace until it was a speck in the distance. Strong winds whipped back her long, ebony hair, a rush of adrenaline and sense of freedom swelling from inside of her, ready to burst.

Yáviën grinned, her grey-blue eyes sparkling with mirth. A joyous laugh escaped her lips, getting lost to the wind. Thangannas snorted merrily, just as excited as she was to have a little adventure.

"Isn't this wonderful, Than?"

The massive beast whinnied in return, his head bobbing slightly. Their connection was so strong she felt that he understood her better than most people.

When they reached the mountains after several hours, she halted. Something was off. There was a darker sense to the area as if something sinister polluted the air.

Thangannas grew uneasy, beginning to back away.

"Than, dartho ennas (wait there)," she commanded, notching a white-feathered arrow.

A snarl erupted as a humanoid thing lunged at her. At the last second, she fired, a soft whizzing sound cutting through the air before it plunged into the creature's chest.

It dropped dead a few mere inches in front of her.

Two others came, and they met the same fate. White feathered arrows protruded from their chests. Using her boot, she flipped one of the beings over to inspect it.

Her eyes widened when she recognized what species it was: goblins.

She quickly retrieved her arrows from the bodies, careful not to snap the arrowheads embedded deep in the flesh. She cleaned them of gore using a small cloth from one of Than's saddlebags.

"More goblins? I believed there were but a few stragglers... have they returned to the mountains?" She wondered aloud, deciding to mount Than again, "It would not be wise to linger here any longer. I know not how many goblins have returned... and it is a rather long ride back to the Shire..."

_'I_ _suppose I got carried away...'_ she thought regrettably, none too pleased about the extensive ride back.

"Well, we have journeyed for far longer than a day in the past, right Than? We can handle it."

The white beast she was on, however, simply snorted in disagreement.

"You're always such a pessimist, silly horse. Noro lim (ride fast)!" She ordered, gently kicking his sides.

Thangannas raced off towards the Shire at a full gallop, only stopping once to take a break and recover.

_'Hopefully, Frodo will not worry about my extended absence.'_

* * *

**Gandalf**

He traveled on horseback for a rather tiring distance, passing Rivendell and the mountains and even beyond that.

A white city, gleaming from a distance, was his desired destination. From afar, the old wizard could see the sharp, jagged mountains of Mordor. Apprehension swelled in his chest, his thoughts whirring on potential findings.

Once he entered Minas Tirith, the capital of Gondor, he swerved down roads and halls, passing people who hardly spared him a second glance.

He entered the dim archives, selecting old scrolls, parchment, and books to sift through for answers.

A cloud of dust arose from the papers as he opened them, shuffling them around for the right information. To pass the time, he sipped at a glass of his favored red wine while reading a certain document.

"The year 3434 of the Second Age. Here follows the account of Isildur, High King of Gondor, and the finding of the ring of power," he read aloud, internally gratified at the fact he finally discovered the proper parchment.

"It has come to me, the One Ring. It shall be an heirloom of my kingdom. All those who follow in my bloodline shall be bound to its fate for I will risk no hurt to the ring.

"It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain. The markings upon the band began to fade. The writing, which at first was as clear as red flame, has all but disappeared. A secret now that only fire can tell."

While he researched in the dank, dusty archives and took residence in Minas Tirith, dark, sinister events were taking place elsewhere, preparing for the uprising of what would be the start of a long, perilous journey.

A journey to destroy a single ring: a ring that would cause so much pain for so many.


End file.
